


All Mine

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blood, Collateral Damage, Falling In Love, HYDRA Husbands, He's just a little weird, Implied Gas Leak Explosion, Jack's really romantic, Jealousy, M/M, Memories, Murderers, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Psychopaths In Love, Romanticism, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock was gonna settle down with a nice boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Только мой](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12793197) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



> I made up a birthday challenge to myself to write something outside of my comfort zone so here I go. It's super weird with jumpy tense's done in chronological memory jumps in Brock's POV.
> 
> I generally write smut straightforward.(?) If that makes any ounce of sense, I wanted to try that kind of poetic vague-ish way it's written sometimes since I tend to write my notes like that occasionally when I plan something so you know, it won't be like I usually write it. /rambles
> 
> Title from Portishead.

The team was all hand picked from higher ups, full of potential and primed in their skill set. They moved together as a unit much faster than anyone expected and were effective at what they did which generally meant they were fluent in retrieving what was needed and killing anything in their way.

Brock was never here for anything but to climb ranks and be the best he could. He prided himself in his work and it showed, it wasn’t until the day he actually met Jack Rollins that he began to wonder if that was all he wanted in life.

He kept it to himself of course, he had always assumed it was one sided being that Rollins never much said anything except when they were working and Brock didn’t need to screw up their team because he couldn’t cut it because he knew he could, attraction or not.

The moment it did change though, it had all started with a heart.

Separated from the team during a mission, someone had gotten the drop on him and Rollins was on them from the shadows in mere seconds. He managed to crawl away from the scuffle, blood pouring out of his left shoulder and down his tactical vest. He rolled over to look only when the noises stopped and saw Jack straddled and looming over the body. There was a knife sitting deep at their chest his hand still gripping the handle, his other unstrapping and undoing their armor. 

They had a mission, supplies were running low, this was survival.

Brock focused on fastening a makeshift bandage while Jack stayed where he was silent and focused. Rumlow assumed he was scavenging everything off the body, wet spongy noises rising through the cool air and he paid no mind to it until he looked up and saw Jack holding out the dead man’s heart.

_A human heart for him._

Brock blinked slowly staring at Jack looking down at the corpse with a tense expression and brows furrowed close together as he breathed out steadily. Rumlow wondered if this was something his second in command was entirely unsure of, if he considered the outcome if it turned out bad. Thick strings of blood dripped off soaked fingerless gloves and instead of recoiling Brock reached out just to push the organ off his palm. Jack looked up watching it land with a heavy burdened thud across the dirt, rolling down the incline to coat itself with dust. 

Brock brought him back to his hand when he pressed his palm over the newly vacant spot, slick and sticky, browns meeting greens and everything suddenly fell into place for them, a calm curl of a smile across his face.

It wasn’t until their return to the safehouse that anything else came up, the team already there waiting outside until their commander was back before they all moved underground. Their medic stitched him up and it’s then that he noticed Jack’s eyes staring; keeping close watch with his handgun on his thigh like he didn’t trust their teammate, cleaning up his own wound on his arm he had hastily bandaged up earlier in the day. 

It wasn’t obvious but it was all Brock could see, the sensation of Jack’s eyes running over his body, fingers tensing up the moment Brock moved or twisted minutely in discomfort to the stitches like he was feeling how he felt, it made Brock feel warm, his mind racing around what he could possibly be thinking.

They took one room in the bunker together, sitting in privacy on the bed cot before Jack admitted to stalking Brock prior to being attacked.

“Watched him shadowing you, had my gun trained on him but he wanted to jump you with a knife..and I didn’t pull the trigger, I let him move on you. Wanted to see what you would do because you’re art in motion when you fight close combat, but then the second he stuck you I had to step in and stop him..”

Brock remembered Jack draw in a shaky breath, scrubbing his hands together, thigh knocking into Brock’s, as he leaned his face in closer and Brock could only part his lips a little, “I wouldn’t let him kill you.”

Brock couldn’t help himself, eyes immediately going to Jack’s lips, “I know. You’d never let..”

He can’t speak for a second, mouth feeling try, skin goosepimpling under heavy armor.

“Never let what _Commander_?”

His voice is low, a little lurid and heated. Brock understands that Jack knows exactly what he wanted to say but wants to hear it anyway, a flutter of warmth spreading across his belly.

“I know you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.” He informs him, breathy and sweet.

Jack smiles, soft and fond of him. He raises a hand up letting his fingers trace the curve of his jaw. He moves on to caress his cheek and Brock makes a small noise he can’t help, staring into those eyes and turning against his palm. 

He’s never felt like this about anyone.

Roaming his hand along his cheek again, Jack’s moving down and tracing out the column of his throat all light and careful. It’s like Brock _matters_ and his touch feels too good. Jack then moves in close and presses his lips to his and Brock can’t help the small sigh as he lets him in, Jack’s tongue exploring and mapping out his mouth, slow and languid. He’s seen this man slit throats and disembowel with a hard smile but his touch on him was the equivalent to feathers along air.

Brock knows he’s in love already.

 

They were together for years like that, killing because it was _so_ easy because it was their job and they enjoyed it. It wasn’t until they were all found out and had to scatter. Triskelion was where he didn’t know if he was ever going to see Jack again and in the end Brock was sent to the hospital and no one could find Rollins. 

It was months later, surgeries abated, locked in a hospital room on his own floor that while he sat up waiting for him Jack finally showed up leaving a trail of bloody footsteps and a warm relieved smile.

It was like falling in love all over again.

 

Brock pressed his back against the door and watched. There was a whimpering cry of the man beneath Jack, laid out on the bathroom floor watching feet twitch and kick at nothing, large hands wrapped around his throat while long muscular legs pinned down arms. 

The gleam in Jack’s eyes was always too beautiful for Brock to ignore watching him stare down in fervent focus, the stranger looking back at him with wide eyes and he was barely able to wheeze out stop before he just couldn’t say anything else. 

Reveling in the amazing amount of control etched across Jack’s features was always Brock’s favorite part. How stoic and dominating he was over people. It was so easy to get lost and lose track of time watching him, admiring him. It’s always an extra bonus when the person gives up before they die like right then, he knows from his own experience how long it takes to choke a man and obviously so does Jack. That fragment in time where they accept their fate and become complacent. Feet soon stopped moving, mindlessly sliding along the floor as the air was filled with wet choked sounds before there was nothing but silence around them.

Jack looked up with a boyish smile, giving him a playful wink. Brock adored it. The light sheen of sweat across his forehead, his hair grown out a little bit, some strands sticking to skin, his face a gentle flush of color as he held up a set of car keys.

The Impala was sleek and black and Brock was in love with it immediately. He ran his palm along the hood, smiling towards Jack as he was coming out of the gas station with a plastic bag.

The owner stepped up beside Rumlow, enjoying the sight with him, “Isn’t she beautiful? She’s my baby. And hey thanks again for the help, let me just go wash my hands in the bathroom and I can show you what’s under the hood.”

All Brock could do was smile and nod, watching Jack casually head in the same direction whistling a tune.

 

It’s already night when he’s stepping out of the bathroom, ill yellow light basking around bare burn scarred shoulders and a fluffy white towel snug around his waist padding into the mouth of darkness awaiting him. They had been driving on the road for way too long, rubbing the back of his neck in slow gentle circles. He takes a couple steps before he sees a pair of legs splayed out on the floor, dark blue jeans covering them between two neatly made queen sized beds, one shoe pointing out awkwardly and no one would really have known the wiser.

It was the sound of the slow steady drip at the tiled entryway that got him to look up again, Jack leaning tall and lean against the door, too dark to see his face but there was enough to see sun soaked skin painted red, the color splashed across his white t-shirt and down the front of his jeans. 

Jack watched him across the way not saying a word, instead he lifted two steady fingers caressing around a lit cigarette taking in a drag just watching, blowing the smoke out into the room. The blood begins to dry, one last drop off the crook of his elbow and there’s no noise this time. 

Brock only takes one more step to see the body between himself and Rollins, not moving and lying out face down in what looked like a scuffle that wasn’t really much of a fight. The carpet was soaked and Brock wondered if they should even bother to move the poor bastard this time, his mind sorting out possibilities and wondering if it was easier to up and just leave.

Anyone else in this situation may have felt some level of worry, green eyes piercing into his very soul as Jack continued to smoke, lazy and casual but for Brock this was another Sunday. His pops always said he never had a head for knowing when to be scared, that he always brought in the bad because he himself was bad and boy did he call it with Jack. 

He kicked the boot with his toe, tilting his head up at Rollins again, “Come here.”

Jack surged forward, quick wide strides and held his cheek, close and careful as his thumb hooked beneath his chin. It was possessive but not painful, more to examine him. Brock tilted his head to the stroke of fingers, letting his eyes close a long moment before he looked at him again.

“Who is it Jack?”

“Gas station with the broken cameras.”

Hot breath danced along his skin making him feel restless, there wasn’t much to remember about the store, nothing was really happening. Jack pumped gas while Brock was inside searching for the snacks.

Suddenly he paused, sweeping from his boyfriend’s gaze to look at the body again. Blue plaid, worn and hideous, a fond smile spreading across Jack’s face when recognition kicked in. 

“ _Yeah_.”

Brock remembered picking up some waters, a couple packets of jerky, some candy bars and corn nuts. The clerk was reading a magazine. It was a deserted little gas station in the middle of fuck all nowhere. Brock carried his haul to the counter and that was when he almost collided with tall and plaid, a goofy smile across the guys face with a baseball cap on his head giving it a short tip in apology.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention, getting a little tired from my road trip.”

Brock shrugged it off with a half smirk, dumping his items on the counter and waited for it to ring up, “‘Appens.”

“Looks like you’re either still going strong or planning a little snack before you crash for the night.”

The clerk had no idea how much corn nuts were and wondered off to price check them irritating Brock mildly as tall and plaid leaned against the counter with a gait to it that made Rumlow’s brow ride up.

“Crashin’ at the motel a couple miles out, been drivin’ all day..”

“I hear that.” The stranger murmured and his stare was too long, his arm too close.

Rumlow came back to the present, arms still at his sides and blood smeared across his cheeks as Jack held on.

“You were both talking, and he was laughing and _staring_ at you.”

“Aw Sweetheart,” Brock tilted his head slightly, stretching his neck up brushing his nose against Jack’s, “You got jealous.”

Jack closed his eyes to the sensation, dropping his hand away to rest them both at Brock’s bare hips, “He _touched_ you, no one’s allowed to touch you. Couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you, like you would do whatever he said. I told him you were mine, had to.”

He was speaking like he was trying to make a point, which Brock supposed he was, except to him it was only something he already knew well. He didn’t even know when he was touched, and then he remembered the way fingers had momentarily brushed his shoulder when there was some comment about how the man liked his shirt. Brock disliked it, swallowed down his discomfort and paid for his purchases pushing his shoulders in to skirt around to get back outside. Jack was beside the car waiting with his frame up against it, hand swiftly sliding across Brock’s shoulder firm and strong before he turns to let him into the passenger seat. 

It’s then that Brock realizes Jack watched the whole thing, he was too focused on wanting a shower to even realize Jack’s gesture over it. 

There’s a kitchenette in their room with a two element gas stove covered in crud and Brock’s sure it’s going to attract roaches sometime soon. He turns to Jack, their eyes catching and he knows he’s thinking the same thing. 

_It’s time to go._

 

One of his favorite places was the old deserted farmhouse. Well, _deserted_ was a loose term for it but they made it work like they always managed to.

He liked how lived in it was, warm and peaceful located in the middle of farm country, he knew they couldn’t stay for too long but he could really see them settle in somewhere like this when it was all said and done. He told Jack so and he agreed with him, promising he would build him a home like this when they were both ready to settle down. 

Brock blamed the granddaughter for destroying his little fantasy way too quick by showing up out of the blue. He knew Jack saw how he felt, it was why he put on the charm and invited her inside. Introduced himself as a hired hand and went on a whole spiel about how her grandparents, Millie and Bill, were such kind souls to take him and Brock in for the summer. 

He himself almost gave it away, a smirk of amusement on his scarred face thinking about what really happened but he played along, nodding in greeting to the woman, Jill he was pretty sure that was her name, before stepping outside with a sack of feed that he had picked up off the dusty walkway a couple days ago pressing his palm casually over the bloody hand print.

“I’m sure they’ll be back before dinner, said they had to go take some quilts to the Johnson’s.”

She nodded, smiling at him as her eyes lingered a little bit over the burns before he finally walked off and Jack wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, flashing a warm smile. He heard Jack mention something about the basement cellar getting damp with mold and she suddenly started off about it wanting to show him what area was extremely bad and that her grandparents never listened to her warnings about it.

Brock was reading a newspaper a little time later over the softness of the kitchen light overhead while the window sat open and a soft breeze blew in from the evening summer warmth. There was a loud crash down in the cellar and he barely tilted his head towards the open door nearby the sound chased by a scared cry. 

He set his newspaper down, closing it up and folding it in half neatly just like he received it pulling himself out of the chair just as he heard the first creaks of the old stairs that would bring their guest up to the main floor. Brock was already there now, standing and curiously watching Jack at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall like there wasn’t much of a care in the world, white undershirt and light khaki’s splashed with sprays of red, the granddaughter struggling to get to the top few stairs on all fours and her face is covered with smears of blood. She let her looks go too easily Brock supposes as he looks at her better this time around, shallow knife marks littering all over her body, like Jack was toying and it’s a wonder she’s got fight in her to get up those stairs.

She raised her head up, blinking blindly to the light before clutching at Brock’s black slipper, sobbing and begging, her other hand trembles around his ankle and slowly, meticulously Brock dipped down to his knees, carefully sliding his foot away from her hands. He hushed her as he stroked her cheek gently and it only made her cry harder, hands trying to grip his arms but she could barely keep herself upright.

“Save me, please. Please he’s crazy..”

Brock smiled sympathetically, petting her hair feeling her relax just a little nodding as he cradled her head, fingers gently brushing fine hairs along the back of her neck and softly kissing into her brown locks. He smoothed burn scarred hands along her arms and shoulders, trying to console and make her comfortable. 

It was then that the fight or flight response seemed to ebb away, her wild eyes slowly realizing and she cried again wrapped in Brock’s arms knowing the outcome. She couldn’t stop her tears, leaning in and taking the temporary stage of solace.

Brock felt it, Jack did too, green eyes watching him like they always did as he looked over her head while his fingers moved, his nose taking in the scent of roses and lavender, “I know, it’s why I love him so much. Funny how your grandma said the same thing about him.”

He barely registered her body tensing as he tightened his fingers around her throat, hands dancing over his arms before she just couldn’t even do anything, life leaving terrified eyes before Brock smiled at her again, pulling himself up as he let go, watching her body fall down the stairs again towards Jack’s awaiting feet.

Jack only smiled at him, patient and polite, “Love you Sweetheart.”

Brock blushed softly, turning to go back to his newspaper, “I love you too Jack.”

 

He was in bed watching the moon staring back at him and lace on the softly dancing curtains. A spare afghan sat on a worn wooden chair next to it, snug beside a sewing machine gathered in dust.

The bed sunk down with the weight of Jack curling in behind him, freshly showered and arms warm, lips gentle against his neck.

He smelled like pine.

It never took long for Brock to be on his back staring up with fluttering eyelids and plush bitten lips. The sweep of the moonlight caressing scars and the reminder that he had burned but came out of the ashes new and blessed to be alive. Laid out entirely open and vulnerable for Jack and only him. 

Lips mapped him all over like they did every night and every morning, memorizing and remembering him, Jack worshiping his body like Brock was all that was holy for him. Perhaps he was right, believing it always.

Brock’s cheeks flushed pink, the color blooming across his body following after Jack’s roaming mouth, skin rising with soft goosebumps, he couldn’t disregard how intoxicated he felt like this, under him and wholly dizzy over his attention, drunkenly taking it in as he succumbed and arched for much more. Moans dancing in the air while Jack essentially devoured him whole.

He panted, trying to catch his breath and Jack stared at him, only telling him it was like he was watching a beautiful image coming to life, that he was _honored_ by him, that he couldn’t believe Brock _chose_ him.

He couldn’t stop the mess of laughter that spilled out of him after Jack said that, _his_ Jack, patiently staring at him with a smile as Brock laughed himself silly and shook his head, pulling Rollins close for a kiss trying to correct his love but he only ignored him and always told him it was he who chose him.

His body jolted, lit itself on fire when he felt fingers press inside of him, slick and warming to the heat, his own hands flinching to grasp at the sheets that were trying to hold him close. He dropped his head to one side and then back the other way as Jack gradually tortured him, hips pinned down mewling and moaning shamelessly for more. 

It wasn’t long before Jack slipped in another, the meat of Brock’s hand bitten between his own teeth, whimpering into his skin while Jack watched with keen interest, his mouth finding a nipple to bruise when he wasn’t.

Sharp points of Jack’s canines were prominent when he bit into Brock’s flesh, never breaking skin but pinching and worrying it, marking him up with careful bites and slow traces of his tongue forcing out helpless whines, begging Jack to never stop. His body writhed, heat twisting inside of him like Jack’s fingers did, he pulled him closer and pleaded with his eyes. Jack only hushed him softly, affectionate moist kisses along his cheekbones, the soft scratch of his scruff flushing his skin.

“ _Shh, I got you baby.._ ” 

He whispers it so gentle and sweet and it’s instant how fast it happens, how Brock feels himself relax and go pliant, oh so very pliant and just for Jack. 

Brock wants to say something but his mind is so foggy, tongue heavy and body feeling clumsy. Emptiness surges forward when Jack pulls away but as a whine escapes, arms tuck under his and he’s full again, sliding in slow and slick. Jack takes care of him, fingers brushing through his hair but he barely feels it. All he feels is how Jack’s _home_ and nothing makes him feel better than that.

Their bodies are already moving as one before he can even pull himself together, rocking back and forth as the air becomes steeped with beautiful splintered noises helplessly falling out of his mouth. Jack’s head dips down to rest over his brow, panting and coiling fingers through soft black hair. 

Brock pulled him in tighter at Jack’s waist wanting him close, wanting him _deeper_. 

There’s no one else that matters, no one else that leaves him breathless. Eyes locked in this moment and nothing else ceases to exist.

“I love you,” Jack pants out, “I’ll always love you. I loved you the day I laid eyes on you.”

Brock hears himself whimpering, dull nails scratching at Jack’s skin, a tear escaping from him, “ _Jack_.”

His tongue too lethargic to say anything more and moves a hand to pull Jack down instead to catch his open mouth and shudders against lips, heartbeat fighting against his chest. Jack’s swallowing down his moans and Brock can feel himself getting closer to the edge.

It only takes barely a few more thrusts and Brock feels himself tense and suddenly he’s falling, vision blurring, Jack’s name on his lips overwhelmed with an explosion of hot molten heat awash with a perfect euphoria that clings to his bones and stays there for as long as he wants it to. 

Brock’s world begins to smooth out into a kaleidoscope of prominent green in Jack’s eyes with golds and specks of brown. There’s an overwhelming sensation as Jack presses against him, melting into flushed skin and Brock can hear him absently reciting a litany of ways the man worships him before he climaxes soon after choking out a deep groan as his body shakes with a subtlety in it and he thrusts sharply one last time before collapsing onto him like a docile beast. 

Sliding his hands up along hot slick sweat covered skin, Brock felt out the roll of Jack’s hips as they continued to thrust in small gentle motions riding it out as he heard soft sweet oversensitive sounds slip past his own lips.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed or when Jack pulled out lost in the throes of sleep, fighting to stay awake, he only felt Jack kiss his temple and a warm cloth drag along his body. An absent whine slipped out before the larger body draped back over him and he smiled again letting sleep finally take him away.

It was the only time Jack really allowed himself to lose any ounce of control.

 

He sat in the straw, arms resting against his knees as he tapped the end of his switchblade against his chin lost in thought, arms stained red from fingers to elbows. He glanced at the body lying still a few feet away, some girl that wanted to chat up Jack when she went outside but Jack was his and he made a point to tell her. He did. How they got to the farmhouse, he doesn’t remember. If she hadn’t looked at him she would have been alive, she should have known better. 

He turned his head to footsteps coming around, a shovel dropped from dirt stained hands and Jack stopped in front of him with a smile, stooping down to give him a kiss.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

That’s the only thing he said until much later when Jack drew him a hot bath and washed off all the blood, fingers massaging in his hair as he sat in rust colored water. He had carefully stripped him and led him into the tub, warm and careful climbing in after to hold him close he whispered I love you. 

Brock leaned into him, “She shouldn’t have looked at you.”

“I know sweetheart.”

“Shoulda known better.”

Fingers twined together as Jack brushed his lips along his temple, “No one will understand what we mean to each other.”

He remembers back while soaking in the water, back at the hospital, the night Jack came to get him. He used his thumb to brush the blood splatter off from across his cheek and they stepped out of the room together. There was an eerie silence, a smear of blood that looked like someone had tried to crawl away before they completely collapsed, a single bloody trail of footsteps coming from one side of the hallway and the security guard that stood watch was slumped off his chair and on the floor. 

He remembers asking him what it was like to kill now that they weren’t working for HYDRA anymore. Jack only shrugged as they walked side by side saying it was pretty much the same. 

They made it outside and escaped out into the night holding hands. He remembered asking him later while they laid in bed together, naked and wrapped in sheets, his chin resting on his chest how he himself felt like when he killed.

Jack only stared at him with a fond smile for a moment, cupping his face gingerly, a thumb brushed along his lips and he pulled him close, kissing him again. 

They drew back and Jack was looking nostalgic, green eyes staring wistfully at him. 

“It’s like the day I fell in love.”


End file.
